Little Lulu
by blueashke
Summary: How much can a person change in three years? Rachel Berry certainly has. So, it would seem, have the other people from her childhood. Will she recognize her first crush when they unexpectedly cross paths? T to start, probable M later
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was supposed to be a short happy little ficlet for a Yule present for my Pretty Whitty, but I kept having ideas. No clue how long this will get, but enjoy the ride! Reviews are love, but really I just want you to read it.**

"Honestly Rachel, I just can't stand it in the apartment with her. She never goes out. She studies ALL the TIME. She's up before me, taking pictures as the sun rises, she's at class all day, she's up studying when I come home from the parties; I mean, what does she think this is, coll- oh. Well, never mind that, she's seriously lame and that's why I'm sitting here in your living room waiting on YOUR late ass so we can go drink half of New York City dry." The ramble coming from the other room continued, but the girl in her bedroom just smiled into her vanity mirror and tuned her friend Karen out.

The three years since high school graduation had led to a lot of changes in one Rachel Barbra Berry, Glee club co-captain extraordinaire. Once she no longer had to fear slushies to the face, her wardrobe had matured into one with first more cleavage, then even more leg, and finally had softened to one with more class. An incident at a party her freshman year had left her with barely chin-length hair (never again would she drink tequila around aspiring hairdressers), and despite having had years now to grow back, she'd kept it to just above her shoulders, discovering a slight natural wave that the weight of her sable locks had prevented her from seeing as a teenager.

As she expertly began lining her eyes, Rachel spared a glance at the picture that was stuck up in the right hand corner of her mirror. Automatically, her fingers dropped from her eye, to her lips, to the picture. "Love you, babe," she whispered. It'd been too long since she'd seen the shining eyes face to face, but Lima was a long way from New York City, and she just didn't get home as often as she'd like. But tonight was supposed to be fun, and moping about their separation wasn't going to help. Giving a slight shake to her head, she hurried through the last of her preparations.

"So I said, Lucy, if you're going to stay in your room all the time, at least have the decency to make some kind of mark on the rest of the apartment so when I bring a guy home, I'll know that you're there and not fuck him in the living room! I mean, honestly, who DOES that?" Karen had apparently not stopped talking the entire time Rachel had been doing her makeup, but really, that didn't surprise her. The younger girl had all the energy of a sixteen year old Rachel Berry.

"Wait, you're mad because you screwed what's-his-name in the living room of your apartment, your roommate didn't come out and bust you, and you only found out later that she was home? Woman, you're crazy." Grabbing her now-signature handful of hoop earrings as she walked back into the living room. "Admit it, K, you're an exhibitionist with a sadistic humiliation streak thrown in for bonus. Leave the poor girl alone! And more vital to the current situation, tell me how I look!"

Dark green eyes flicked up to the doorway and sparkled. "Girl you're gonna break about a thousand hearts tonight, just you wait. That top... by the way, I'm going to be stealing that, just so you know - that top is amazing. Where the hell did you get it?" A laugh and a grin were the response as the girls grabbed their purses and headed out the door, previous topic forgotten. They were young, they were beautiful, and New York City was full of life for them to explore.

333

The locks clicked in succession at three that morning, as two very intoxicated women slipped into Karen's apartment. Rachel hung on the redhead's arm, giggling as she attempted to remove one of her heels without falling over. This might have worked, had Karen not tried the same thing simultaneously, causing them to bump heads and crumple to the floor, their laughter only increasing. "Shhhhhh, no, like, seriously. I don' wanna deal with Lu.. Lu... with my roommate. HA! That's what I should call her, Lulu. Yup, that's her new name. Lulu Harrington. That'll do." Attempts were being made to right themselves as Karen babbled on, mostly resulting in only more noise and continued failure.

At last, Rachel stopped giggling (and snorting, though she'd never admit to it) long enough to roll onto her stomach and push to her knees. "Hoooookay, I think I'm gonna just crash here on your couch, mmkay? Kay," she finished, not waiting for a response before faceplanting into the brown suede thrift store find, mumbling about, "The poor cowses!" as she pulled the soft green afgan from over the back of the couch and onto her body. By the time Karen was on her feet, soft snores could be heard.

"Yeah, 's cool. I'm... I'ma be over here," she said to no one in particular, stumbling towards her bedroom. The lack of a shoe hampered her balance even more, and she stumbled, losing her sense of direction and opening the door across from her own. Two steps in, her brain caught up with what her blurry eyes were seeing. Namely, her roommate sprawled, facedown across her bed. "Oops! Wrong room! Sorry Lulu." She turned to leave, repeating to herself, "Yup, Lulu, I like it. Little Lulu Harrington." The rambling continued as she shut the door, made her way into her own room, and climbed into bed. The last words out of her mouth were, "I still wish you'd tell me what the Q stands for."


	2. Chapter 2

The fact that there was no light entering her window other than ambiant electric lights didn't bother Lucy Harrington. If she could see daylight, she'd missed the best part of the day for her current project. Quickly dressing in her favorite jeans and an old sweatshirt, she grabbed a hair tie as she stepped out of her room. She navigated the darkened living room from memory, head down as she bundled up her long, light brown hair. Stepping into the bathroom, she groaned at the sight of herself as she closed the door and flicked the light on.

"Ugh, I really need to get some highlights or SOMETHING. I miss being a blonde." She didn't really mean it, she knew. She said much the same thing to herself each morning, before brushing her teeth, washing her face, and taking the messy bun down only to put it right back up, possibly a tad bit straighter, but just as often as not it was even worse. No one cared what you looked like when you were behind the camera, after all. With one last glance at the near stranger in the mirror, she slipped back out, snagging her favorite camera from it's place of pride on the mantel above the non-functional fireplace.

Just as she was opening the door, a faint mumble - a snatch of song - came from the couch. Glancing back, Lucy made out a form beneath the couch blanket, moving slightly in their sleep. The voice was definitely female, and vaguely familiar, but the next moment it was followed by an ungainly snore that shook her back to her senses. She had images to capture.

*two hours later*

The light had been perfect this morning. Shots of sun beams piercing between trees in Central Park, focusing on a single drop of dew, trying to get that perfect shot to show the rainbows the prismatic effect put out, all of it was her purview. She'd already nearly completed what she wanted out of this current idea; it was time to find something else to shoot. As Lucy unlocked each of the three deadbolts and shouldered the door open (she'd grabbed coffee and breakfast on her way back, but this now meant her hands were uncomfortably full), she was unsurprised to see that the lump on the couch hadn't really moved. Given that it still wasn't even 8 am, this wasn't entirely a surprise - she thought she remembered her roommate stumbling into her room at some ungodly hour.

Still, the fact that there was someone sleeping on the couch alone was a new development. She'd run into her roommate passed out there before, and last week she'd opened her bedroom door to see Karen sprawled out over a sleeping man (she didn't want to deal with it, so she'd closed the door and hoped they'd wake up soon. She hadn't gotten to eat breakfast until nearly noon, and her bladder had nearly exploded).

Her keys were returned to the bowl next to the door, and the bag with her bagel breakfast sandwich was set on the counter along with her coffee. As she walked to the mantle to replace the camera, the lump moved. She turned to face the couch fully, hoping to see a face. She assumed it was one of Karen's girl friends, but she hadn't met many of them yet. The afghan had been discarded as a means of warmth, merely being scrunched up into a ball and clutched to the sleeping - yes, definitely a woman - woman's face.

Well since the face wasn't showing, she was going to take a good look at the rest of the package. It wasn't like Lucy saw many women to talk to on her morning adventures. Everything was through her lens. Even now, she instinctively picked up her camera again. She let herself observe in tiny snapshots. Wouldn't do to perv on her roommate's friend.

*click*  
>Bare feet, one heel fallen to the floor in front of the couch, the other discarded by the door, now that she looked for it.<p>

*click*  
>Long, thin legs encased in distressed jeans that looked positively painted on.<p>

*click*  
>A dark red top that appeared to show a generous amount of cleavage, though she couldn't really see what it was showing off as the ball of green afghan began here.<p>

*click*  
>Short, dark hair with a soft wave to it.<p>

*click*  
>A single ear showed, pierced by no fewer than four hoop earrings, two of which were nearly big enough to be bracelets.<p>

*click*  
>She'd stepped closer, she realized now. This newest picture showed the hint of a nose, the lay of thick, long lashes against a cheek.<p>

*click*  
>Was that a hint of a tattoo she spied behind that delicate ear?<p>

*click*  
>Yes, yes it was.<p>

*click*  
>A... gold star?<p>

Lucy gasped audibly as she zeroed in on the aforementioned star. Just as she was about to reach down and do... well, SOMETHING, the sleeper moved, burying her face deeper into the afghan and spooking the young photographer. Hurriedly, she spun around, nearly tossed the camera on to the mantle, and fled for her room. Too late, she remembered her breakfast and coffee back on the counter. Pulling at her hair in frustration (and as usual, dismantling the bun that had been threatening to fall all morning), she dashed back out, grabbed her loot and once again headed back for her room.

Just as she reached the door, Rachel turned over fully, rubbing at her eyes. Catching movement, she looked up in time to see a long expanse of flowing light brown hair nearly being caught in the door to the mysterious Lucy's bedroom. The click of the latch came only a second after.

"Was it something I said?" she asked the empty room. Not to her surprise, she got no answer. Mind barely functioning, she shrugged and turned back over, wanting to catch a few more winks before she faced the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So this story is running away with me already. I know where I want it to go, so I hope you all like it! All will be revealed in due time. At the moment, the plan is NOT to have a lot of interaction with former Glee club members, but we'll see. Story will remain canon up to the Christmas break of senior year and diverge then. And no - Karen is NOT any kind of a love interest or foil, promise.**

*tap tap* "Karen? Karen it's like almost noon, I gotta go soon," Rachel called through the door softly. She'd awoken a few moments prior when she'd gone to turn over and had fallen right off the couch. No response from behind her friend's door. "I'm gonna use your shower, stealing your towel all right?" This being one of their mutual pet peeves, she didn't actually intend to do any such thing, but Rachel knew that if her friend was actually conscious in her room, this statement would bring her barrelling out.

Nothing. Apparently, her friend was even more sacked out than she herself had been. She shrugged. Her years at WMHS had taught her (finally) that bothering people about their own personal habits, especially when they didn't actually affect her own ability to function, was both pointless and tended to put further strain on already tenuous relationships. So rather than reminding her friend that they both had a class in two hours, she sent a quick reminder text (she WAS still Rachel Berry after all) and crossed the living room to go shower. She knew where the clean towels were after all.

The water took forever to heat up in the shower, so while it ran, Rachel looked at herself in the mirror, easing each of the four hoops out of her right ear, and the three from her left. The latch on her lowest hoop on the right side always stuck, so she ended up turning sideways so she could attempt to see the back of her ear to see what was the problem. Yup, looped wrong again. She sighed and fixed the problem so she could safely remove the accessory, but before setting it down she briefly traced the star she could see inked there. She grinned. "I am a shining star!" she sang softly at her reflection, remembering the vocal warm ups she'd overheard Shelby utilizing with the TroubleTones back in high school. For some reason, the New Directions had never liked that one.

The thought of the woman who had given life to her caused her eyes to glaze over, thinking fondly back to the picture in her room. "I miss you baby girl," she whispered to the empty room. But that could be resolved later. Right now she needed to get in the shower so she could make her class on time. Stepping in and closing the glass door, she let the now warm water cover the few tears that came as well. The moment passed as the water began to work out the kinks she'd developed sleeping on the couch, and she forgot she wasn't at home and began to sing.

* * *

><p>It wasn't that Lucy didn't like her roommate, it was that she'd put her headphones on and just get lost in studying. Or editing her photographs. Mostly her photographs. The way each image could tell a story without words, could evoke emotion without movement, all of it spoke to her. So little had spoken to her in the latter days of high school. And since graduation, she'd let only a few people in, and even then only for a day, a week, the time she spent in a city. When a project was done, the class or two she was auditing at whatever school was closest and most interesting ended, or she just couldn't take it anymore, she was gone. No emails, no forwarding address, and never a phone call.<p>

But three months ago all of that had changed. The seemingly neverending funds that her father had been letting her use to travel the world with her camera had dried up suddenly. When she discovered this upon trying to buy a plane ticket home from Machu Picchu, she'd called him frantically. She and her father had never gotten along very well, but the cold reception she got when he answered was more akin to when she was sixteen and pregnant, not 21 and stranded. He'd bought the plane ticket, gotten her home, and promptly cancelled every card she had. He hadn't answered her calls since.

A call to her mother - now happily living in Italy of all places with an artist she'd met and married over the course of a long weekend - had done two things. It had cemented her decision to finally go to New York and finish school. It had also confirmed her worst fear. Her father had cut her off because he'd somehow seen a picture of her at Mardi Gras in Brazil. She'd later learn it had been in among a group of candid photos in a magazine spread, but it didn't matter. She was wrapped around a girl - what was her name? Tania? Tandy? Oh well, didn't matter - hands in each other's back pockets and tongues down each other's throats.

So here she was now, sharing an apartment with a girl she didn't know - Craig's List really hadn't done her a disservice though - keeping up with her personal photography projects but trying to spend most of her time studying so she could get a degree and stop using the money her mother and stepfather sent her for her education.

Frustrated at her inability to concentrate on anything but her past, Lucy pulled off her headphones and heard a startling sound. Singing. And that most definitely was NOT Karen, whose voice reminded her of Santana Lopez'. No, this singing was distinct, familiar, and growing in volume. But it couldn't be, could it? She racked her brain. Had Karen told her the name of the friend she was going out with? No, she'd been trying to finish a paper and tuned her out once she realized the conversation was going to once more consist of 'come out with me' 'no' 'come ON!' and the like.

The singing continued. She couldn't take it anymore. She got up from her chair and walked out into the common area, telling herself she was just going for a bottle of water. She saw the bathroom door shut and realized that the reason the song was muffled was that the singer was in the shower. As she bent down to pull a water from the bottom drawer of the refrigerator, the water shut off suddenly along with the voice. Startled, she spun around, managing to somehow hit her head on the refrigerator door, resulting in a muffled expletive. And then it happened.

Rachel emerged from the bathroom, one towel wrapped securely around her body, a smaller one over her head, towel drying her short hair. "K, I just realized I don't have another top to wear, can I steal one of yo- oh, hello!" She lowered the towel from her head, realizing that the long expanse of hair she was looking at definitely did NOT belong to her best friend. The girl was facing away from Rachel, apparently rubbing at a sore spot on her head. "I hope we didn't wake you up last night. I don't believe we've met yet. I'm Rachel." Forgetting her current attire, she strode right up to the young woman.

"I know," came the whispered reply. Rachel noticed thin shoulders shaking as a deep breath was taken before the person in front of her turned around. And suddenly the world went pear shaped.

"Quinn?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the delay everyone. And don't hate me, but this entire chapter is a flashback. We'll get back to our girls' meeting soon. Also, I'm choosing to do flashbacks from first person point of view, to really let you get into the character's head. Enjoy!**

*FLASHBACK*

I think it was the rejection from Yale that was the last straw. It shouldn't have surprised me, really. I was always meant to be a Lima loser. But either way, it told me what I already knew; that Quinn Fabray wasn't going to college. I just hadn't realized how true that statement would be. So now I sat here, a week before graduation, waiting for my father to speak with me at his office.

"Miss Fabray?" my father's secretary spoke up, breaking me from my reverie. "Your father will see you now." I nodded and stood, brushing my hands over the sundress and white cardigan I wore. It never hurt to dress the part that he wanted to see. I was asking for a lot after all. I strode into his office, closing the door softly behind me.

"Daddy?" The word came out more softly than I had intended. My father had his head down, studying something on the great expanse of his oak desk. It was a single sheet of paper, the only one not stacked neatly on the corners. He looked up.

"Ah, there you are Quinn. I'm looking at this letter and not seeing what I want to see. I'm seeing a rejection from one of the finest colleges in the country, and more importantly - it's not addressed to my daughter as I expected it to be." I knew this was coming. I'd taken a chance when I applied, but I wanted Yale to see me as I wanted to see myself. "Who is Lucy Harrington, and why do I get the feeling that she is you?"

"I don't want to be Quinn anymore, Daddy. Quinn Fabray got pregnant at sixteen. Quinn Fabray left the Cheerios. Quinn Fabray went a little crazy and tried to manipulate the world to get her baby back." And Quinn Fabray is in love with Rachel Berry and can't ever have her. "Lucy Fabray was fat, unpopular, and a child. But Lucy Harrington, she is going to be a world renown photographer. I've already gotten a few pictures published as her, Daddy. And now I have this chance to go to Paris this summer and take pictures and study and I just need the money, please?"

I let my words trail off, happy to finally have them out, but dreading his reaction. Rejecting the Fabray name in favor of my mother's maiden name was a big risk, but I knew that if I kept Fabray, I'd be just as easily found as if I kept Quinn. No, it had to be a full name change, nothing less. And my mother couldn't afford to send me to Paris. Sure the photographs I'd taken had been published, but working free lance didn't pay a lot unless you were well known.

"Quinn," his tone didn't give anything away in that moment. "You want me to pay for you to fly all over the world, to take pictures, and not even be able to point them out to my friends and colleagues and say 'that's my daughter'?"

I colored, looking down. I knew this was part of what could either make or break this situation. I was banking on the fact that my father would rather his cronies not know his younger child was not only an unwed mother (as he still referred to it, despite me giving Beth to Shelby), but an indigent artist. Because that was my goal. To not have a home, but to just travel (ok, run) as far and as fast as I could away from Lima, Ohio, and the things that tortured me about it. "If that's what you want, Daddy. If you want to tell them, couldn't you? I just don't want my friends... well, the Glee Club... to know it's me."

But I'd guessed right, apparently. "No, I don't need people here to know that you're some beatnik pointing a camera at things and calling it 'art'. So long as you stay out of trouble, yes, I'll pay for it. But don't you disgrace me again, little girl, or you will be cut off just as fast as you can blink." He looked back down at his desk, reaching for papers that were to the side. It was as good a dismissal as I'd ever gotten.

"Yes Daddy, no Daddy, thank you Daddy!" I let a breath out, grinning despite myself. I gathered my purse and left his office, feeling ten times lighter.

Next stop, the DMV. I'd already gotten the official paperwork taken care of with my Social Security card. Now all that was left was letting the state of Ohio know that L. Quinn Fabray was forevermore to be known as Lucy Q. Harrington. I had plenty of time to take care of it before tonight's planned activity. Only Rachel Berry would want to celebrate her 18th birthday with all of the seniors in the club getting tattoos. I wondered if I'd be able to bow out of it, seeing as I was still in the process of getting my own tattoo lasered off.

Knowing Rachel, that wouldn't be a good excuse. Not that I'd argue with her that hard.

**Yes I know it's short. Yes I'm going to update more this weekend. Reviews are love!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm feeling inspired today, so you get another chapter! Plus, I think some people were going to lynch me if I didn't come back to present. **

Ignoring the now unfamiliar name, Lucy just smiled as she answered. "Hi Rachel, it's good to see you again." Any other words she might have offered up were discarded immediately when Rachel's open hand came up and struck her across the face, hard.

"It's good to see me again? IT'S GOOD TO SEE ME AGAIN? Is THAT all you can say to me, Lucy Quinn Fabray? After everything you put me through? Put the rest of the club through? Did you think you could just waltz back into our lives like this? Into mine? Is that why you changed your name? How did you find my best friend? You moved in with my best friend to get to ME? How could you? What is Karen supposed to do NOW because you certainly can't keep up the charade anymore now that I know." Each question was punctuated by a strong finger poking into the chest of the taller girl. By the time Rachel finished her tirade, Lucy had been backed around the kitchen counter, through the living room, and up against the wall next to the bathroom. "And by the time I come back out, you BETTER have some answers for me or so help me, I will call Santana Lopez and let HER do the questioning." She stepped back into the bathroom and slammed the door, the sound of it closing reverberating throughout the small apartment.

The sound of the door finally broke Lucy free of her paralysis. What did Rachel mean? She'd told her mother she was leaving, but no one else, so she could understand the club not knowing where she was. But what was she talking about, Karen needing a new roommate? As she pondered, Lucy realized that Rachel had thought she knew that Karen and Rachel were friends. Given that Karen and Lucy rarely interacted, she'd never thought anything of Karen's best friend being named Rachel. After all, Karen didn't go to NYADA.

Wait. Karen didn't go to NYADA. But Karen DID talk about her friend Rachel at school with her. Which meant that Rachel wasn't attending NYADA. Her mind started spinning faster and faster, panic setting in despite the fact that obviously Rachel HAD gotten out of Lima, her precious school or not. But the last time she'd seen Rachel, the little diva was still crowing about getting in (when she wasn't trying to hide from Kurt, who had not. The last month of senior year had really seen the demise of that friendship as a result).

The moments had flown past as Lucy frantically tried to reconcile what she'd just learned with what she had thought for the last three years. Before she could come to any solid conclusions, her time ran out, as the door to the bathroom opened once more and the new Rachel Berry stepped out. "Well?" came the clipped toned voice. "What do you have to say for yourself, Quinn?"

Well at least that gave her a starting point. "Actually, it's Lucy." She waited for another slap, another explosion of sound, eyes shut tight in dread. But nothing came. She opened a single eye to find that nothing had changed about Rachel's stance.

"Fair enough. What do you have to say for yourself, LUCY?" Now Rachel walked away, snagging her fallen heel from by the door and carrying it to the couch with her, where she sat.

Lucy drifted to the chair in the corner of the room. As she sat down, she began to speak. "I didn't know you were here, Rachel. I just got back to the States a few months ago. I haven't spoken to anyone from school since graduation. Why would I know that you weren't at NYADA? Karen never said your last name. You aren't the only Rachel in the world, you know." Now she was getting angry. "Not everything in this world is about YOU, Rachel. And certainly not everything I do is motivated by getting close to you." Too late, she realized how her words could be misinterpreted, but there was nothing she could do now.

"I didn't get in touch because I didn't want to be in touch. And now that you know I'm here, that only means I'll stay out of your way when you see Karen. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do." She rose from her seat and walked away, letting Rachel have a chance to see how it was to not have a chance to respond. Unfortunately for her (or not, as the case might be), the small brunette wasn't nearly as dumbstruck as she had been.

"And if I won't excuse you? Come on Qui- Lucy. What the hell? Why did you leave without a word? I mean, I know you weren't super close to any of us senior year but it wasn't as if you were an outcast. We all thought we'd at least hear from you last year when Artie... when Artie died." A week-long HALO session had produced a bedsore in the paraplegic boy. A rapid infection had led to the unexpected loss that brought everyone else home for the first time since they'd all graduated. When Quinn hadn't shown, it had put the last nail in the coffin that was New Directions.

This did get Lucy's attention, enough that she stopped her steps out of the room and turned back. "I only heard about it when I spoke to my mother after the fact. I sent flowers to his grave. There was nothing I could do, no reason to come home. It had already been four months by then." It had been four months because she'd been out of contact with the world, going on a walkabout in Australia with a small group of Aborigine people. The photo spread she'd come home with had paid for the next year's trip to Brazil, though by the time she ventured to the rest of South America and ultimately Machu Picchu, she'd once again had to rely on her father.

"But... but WHY, Lucy? Why did you leave m- us? I just don't understand."

"People change, Rachel. And I was never going to get out of Lima if I didn't change in a big way. And that meant leaving you and the rest of Glee club behind. And I'm sorry if you feel that I owed you something, but I needed to do it for me. Me, Rachel. Not for my parents or Mr. Schuester or Sue Sylvester or Glee or... or you. I needed to find my own self. And this is me." She gestured to herself, and Rachel really took a moment to take it all in.

Gone was the short blond hair. In its place was light brown hair falling straight down to nearly her waist.  
>Gone were the sparkling hazel eyes. The color remained, but the spark had left, and they were now shielded by thick tortoise shell glasses.<br>Gone was the Cheerio physique. Soft curves didn't actually mark a huge change in the body shape and fitness that Rachel remembered, but there was definitely a bit more in a few places.

Rachel allowed her eyes to show what she truly felt as she looked her fill for the first time in so long. "And you are still the prettiest girl I ever met, Lucy. Don't you remember me telling you so?"

The glasses couldn't hide the patented eye roll. "You told Quinn Fabray she was the prettiest girl you ever met. That girl is dead and gone."

Rachel gave a small smile, realizing the disconnect that they had. "I did tell Quinn that. But I also said that to Lucy. Or did you think I forgot about that summer?"

**Don't hate me. Please? I still maintain what I said before. This is canon up to 3x09. AU after that. **


End file.
